


Beyond the Looking Glass

by ThorneInYourSide



Series: Ideals [1]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Character Turned Into Vampire, I fixed it, M/M, Missing Scene, Spoilers, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThorneInYourSide/pseuds/ThorneInYourSide
Summary: Whilst I enjoyed playing Vampyr, I was left a little confused and disappointed at the odd segway between the scene where Jonathan turns Geoffrey, and their reunion at the cemetery. It all just felt a little disjointed, and I honestly couldn't see Jonathan being so vindictive that he would leave his newborn progeny in the same way that he was left. This is my reworking of events to try and match it up a little better, so I hope you enjoy it. The M/M is more of a theme, but I'd like to come back to this in the future and build on the McReid relationship. Thanks to AHeartIsAHeart for the ship name!





	Beyond the Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> After an almost year-long hiatus due to personal circumstances, I am looking to start writing again. Currently I have two unfinished works that I really want to return to, but this one is my little exercise at getting my eye back in.
> 
> I enjoyed the game, and as said in the description, wanted to do a little patch up on the story to repair what I felt was quite a disjointed set of scenes.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I really need to finish my other works first but I would definitely like to return and explore the dynamics of the McReid relationship further.

Geoffrey sat quietly, his form hunched and unsteady in the shadows, one damaged solar light valiantly flickering away in the corner of the room. He knew that the change had taken, and yet his body ached with every bruise and scrape inflicted on him by that damned leech Reid; head and heart pounding as his cells continued to mutate with corrupted blood. It wouldn’t be long now before the transformation was complete, his humanity ebbing away to be replaced with something baser, more bestial.

After so many years of hunting vampires it was perhaps poetic injustice that it had all come back to this. The last of the McCullum’s turned leech, as his father and brother were before him. Like most men that had encountered the dark creatures, he had occasionally allowed himself to imagine what it would be like should he be changed. Truly there should have been shame in the fantasy, but Geoffrey believed that genuine strength and purpose was proven not in the ignorance of temptation, but in its denial. Still, he honestly expected to feel at least some disgust and anger, but mostly there was pulsing, vibrant relief. The worst had already happened and there was nothing left to fear.

He sighed, guilt beginning to fester at the hollow thankfulness that Carl was long dead. Eldritch was an inspiring mentor, and good friend, but he wouldn’t have hesitated in relieving Geoffrey of his head should he have been alive to witness his downfall.

A sharp pain shot electric through his system then, heart stuttering and stilling briefly in the hunter’s chest as his mouth dropped open in a silent scream. When Jonathan had forced him to swallow the corrupted blood it had felt like molten lead being poured down his throat. The burn was excruciating, and he was ashamed to admit that he had reached out for his maker then, hand stretched towards the departing figure in search of a tiny mote of human comfort. None was forthcoming, and Jonathan had abandoned him to bear it alone. Eventually it passed, leaving the hunter’s body tender and his wits fragile.

He had thought himself over the worst of it, however his current pain was severe and jarring, as if a sliver of agony made real had pierced his very heart. Unable to support himself, McCullum fell back, the impact barely registering as his vision whited out for a moment, slowly fading back to black as mortal death finally caught up with him.

In those final moments, Geoffrey allowed himself to be selfish, his last thought broadcasted loud and strong.

 

\---

 

**“I don’t want to die alone. God help me, I wish he was here – I wish someone was here. Please, not like this. Not like…”**

Jonathan stilled a moment, fangs mere inches from Dr Swansea’s neck. He had called this man friend once, but his hazardous and unethical experimentation had endangered the lives of hundreds if not thousands of people. Edgar had betrayed him, betrayed Elizabeth and more than that, betrayed the very people he had sworn to heal.

The other doctor quaked and whimpered beneath him, eyes shut tight as if that would prevent the inevitable pain of the embrace. Dr Reid had every intention of draining the man dry, here in the dingy basement of the theatre. It was only with his progeny’s desperate call that he stopped, re-evaluating his plan.

“Jonathan, Johnathan, I really thought… I thought you… Oh thank you, thank you. I see the error of my ways now, I promise. Just please, I… I want… Jonathan if you give me your blood you can save me. I’ll stop experimenting on patients, I’ll just focus on curing them. I’m your friend Jonathan. Please”

Dr Reid was still comparatively a very young Ekon, having spent little over a week as an immortal. In that time however, he had picked up a wealth of information from others of his kind and from helpful notes discovered in his investigation. Indeed, at times he wondered how he had never come across any evidence of vampires before his rebirth, as the city seemed positively littered with various extracts and paraphernalia.

He had been told time and time again that they were creatures of deception, and he had become adept at lying and concealing the truth. This newfound skill handily worked both ways, and Jonathan found that he could see through the deception of others just as easily as if they had written their true desires and feelings on a piece of paper and stuck it to their forehead.

Dr Swansea had no intention of ceasing his experiments and would continue to put the population of Pembroke Hospital and the surrounding districts at risk, if allowed to live. The vampire could see it in the nervous flicker of the other doctor’s eyes, his too tight smile and accelerated heartrate.

Jonathan debated with himself for a short moment as Edgar continued to blather on, before deciding that he would serve as an excellent first victim for Geoffrey when he awoke. Clamping his hand over the other man’s face, Jonathan leant in, his voice dropping to a mesmeric silk baritone.

_“Now Edgar, you are going to listen to me. You are to close your eyes and rest now as we are returning to Pembroke. You have committed terrible atrocities my friend and you must be punished for it. You are to allow my progeny Mr McCullum to drink from you, and may God save your soiled soul.”_

With that, Dr Swansea released a low moan of understanding, his eyes slipping closed as Jonathan stood back. Quickly checking Edgar’s body, Reid was able to ascertain that he would be able to make it back to the hospital before succumbing to his injuries, but they would have to leave now if they were to make it before his wounds got the better of him. Bending forward, the Ekon scooped the other man up with ease, hefting him over one shoulder as he made his way back to his new childe.

 

\---

 

**“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the feck happened?”**

Geoffrey’s head was pounding as he sat up, disorientated and unsure. He remembered enduring an agony beyond imagining and a feeling of lonely desolation as if a key comfort was missing in his moment of pain.

The sharp hurt had thankfully dissipated, but he was left with an unpleasant feeling at the back of his gullet. He remembered a burning liquid being poured down his throat and reasoned that he needed something to soothe the raw membrane. He gasped lightly as the discomfort evolved into a pulsing need - a sensation so powerful that his vision greyed at the impact of it. The strange itch was unbearable, and McCullum swung his head in desperation, scanning the room for water or anything which he could swallow to ease it.

It finally landed on an open flask lying abandoned in the middle of the room. Lunging forward for it, he reached out, grasping it closely to his chest. With a quick glance he was left disappointed, any liquid it once possessed having been long since drained.

His frustration was thankfully short lived as a loud mechanical noise drew his attention to the far side of the room. Looking up, the hunter could make out two figures approaching, one atop the other. Their forms were strange, reflecting the dim light in a way that practically made them light up with a crimson glow.

The larger of the two stepped forward, and Geoffrey was met with an odd sense of safety emanating from it. Its light was bright and steady, pulsing almost confidently in the otherwise dim room. The other was unceremoniously laid out on the floor by its partner, its light much dimmer and fading as the seconds passed by.

Warily the confused hunter crept closer, and soon detected a scent so rich, so sweet, that his mouth began to water, the prior discomfort developing into a full-blown ache. The larger figure approached, reaching out a hand to steady him.

“Geoffrey it’s me, Dr Reid. Do you remember what happened?”

McCullum squinted at the shape in front of him, finally able to make out Dr Reid’s strong masculine features atop the red glow. The itching was intense now as he tried to speak, the coarseness of his voice surprising him.

“No… I… I can’t see very well. My throat, it’s so dry. Please I need something to soothe it. Anything.”

The doctor continued examining him briefly, warm hand on Geoffrey’s chin as he tilted it gently upwards. Assessing the clarity of the new vampire’s pale blue eyes, Jonathan allowed a small, knowing smile to ghost across his lips, seemingly pleased with the speed of the transition.

McCullum groaned lightly in desperation, anxious for something to sooth his ache. His maker stood up, offering his new progeny a hand and pulling the hunter to his feet.

“I know my childe. Come with me, I can show you how to make it stop.”

Geoffrey felt a strong arm around his shoulder, guiding him closer to the other rapidly dimming light. A faint sensation of recollection surfaced as he looked at it, something so familiar. He knew this thing, knew this man - instinct or half-formed memory weighing heavy in McCullum’s mind as he recalled that he was responsible for a great atrocity.

The details were hazy though and ultimately, he was unable to make the connection, attention span affected by the gnawing ache in his throat. His confusion and frustration were palpable, and he felt his maker’s hand tighten reassuringly on his shoulder.

“Bring yourself closer to him Geoffrey. Your body and instincts will do the rest.”

Nodding slowly, the hunter did as instructed, trusting the confidence and command in that deep and soothing voice. Leaning forward he was instantly taken aback at the overwhelming scent of sweet, and yes, and good. The young vampire’s mouth began to water, and he was struck with a sharp sensation in his upper jaw. The jarring twinges around his rapidly extending eye-teeth brought soothing, aching respite; the pain an almost enjoyable distraction from the grating itch in his throat.

The man beneath him whimpered as the crimson light dimmed a fraction, and that was all it took for McCullum to strike forward, newly formed fangs digging deep into the jugular vein of his victim. An overwhelming feeling of relief flooded though him, heady and euphoric as he drank the rich blood down.

 

\---

 

Edgar Swansea remained completely still as instructed by Dr Reid, allowing his very essence to be drained by the commander of the Guard of Priwen. Resisting his enthrallment for a moment, he searched out Jonathan’s face, looking for some sort of last-minute reprieve. Instead, all he saw was the flickering shadows of pride, twinned with a predator’s lust, as the powerful Ekon’s eyes were fixed on the bloodied lips of his progeny.  

The sense of bitterness and betrayal was all-encompassing as the doctor fought back tears at his ill-deserved fate. All he had wanted was to help the citizens of London, and his road to hell had been paved with such good, honest intentions. Somewhere he knew that he had lost his way in the twisted underworld of the capital, but he had dreamed of being the brilliant physician that won the war against Spanish Influenza. He was so sure that he had meant something to Jonathan and that he would be spared and recruited as an Ekon. Instead, for reasons unknown, his ‘friend’ had chosen McCullum over him, and wasn’t that just the greatest insult of all?

Moaning in pain, Edgar’s vision blurred a moment as his heart began to stutter, vessels pulsing with staccato rhythm. He supposed that it was a tad cliché, but his life genuinely flashed before his eyes. He remembered his youth, summers spent playing in his family’s country garden. He remembered his father’s reaction when he said he wanted to train as a doctor, Swansea Sr grinning with pride and clapping him hard on the back in delight. He remembered, during his training, attending the seminars of a young, fantastic surgeon; Dr Jonathan Reid demonstrating his fine mettle and setting a grand example for others in the profession. He had wanted so badly to be just like this brilliant man, but in the end his dreams and ambitions had caused naught but suffering.

As the seconds ticked by, time seemed to slow as his eyes closed; lids feeling weighted and stiff. He took a last, deep breath – expelling it in a weak sigh as the darkness finally came to claim him. One strong, final thought took him, before his heart gave out, most of the blood in his system passed on to the predator latched on to his throat. He barely felt it when the teeth in his neck withdrew, and before long he knew naught but the immense stillness of death.

 

\---

 

**“My life I willingly give to you vampire hunter. I do not resent you for taking it, but I ask that you use the eternity I was denied to make a difference. Jonathan has so few friends now and will need love and compassion. He is a good man despite all of this…”**

Geoffrey shrank back in horror as Swansea’s final thoughts flickered across his mind. Staring down at the pale corpse he couldn’t help flicking his tongue across sharp teeth, taste buds searching out any last molecules of the man’s precious blood. Having slaked the burning thirst, his mind had cleared, and he was snapped back to the reality before him. Turning to his maker, he allowed his lips to draw back, long fangs bared in threat at the heartless creature.

“You utter feckin bastard! What have ye done to me?”

Dr Reid stepped forward cautiously, eyes soft and sympathetic.

“I have opened your mind Geoffrey; can you not see that? Your blind hubris has led you to this point, and I saw no other way to remedy it without killing you. I hope that you will come to understand in time.”

Enraged, the vampire hunter stalked forward a few steps, jaw gritted, and teeth exposed as he hissed out a reply. Jonathan stood his ground, fists clenched as if to avoid reaching out to him. This inevitably angered the Irishman further.

“Ye have cursed me monster, and I cannot and will not understand nor forgive you for it.”

Practically snarling, the younger Ekon spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the bars of the lift so hard that the wood splintered. Jamming his finger on the button, the machine began to descend as he turned his back on the one who made him.

The compartment began to move downwards slowly, and Geoffrey was aware of Reid’s eyes on him, through the damaged wooden guard. No response to his words was forthcoming from his sire, but the weight of his stare was almost tangible, right up until the point at which the lift had dropped out of his view.

Pressing his back to the wall, Geoffrey sighed, unable to maintain his anger at Jonathan as the intense experience of the evening drained him to a cool numbness. That combined with the overwhelming relief from the thirst left him unable to focus on his feelings for too long. His head ached, and his body sang with the fresh blood of Dr Swansea running through his veins. Sighing with frustration he exited the contraption, stalking out of the quieter rear door of the hospital and disappearing into the night to re-evaluate his situation.

He had some considerable thinking to do.


End file.
